Picture: From the Sir Charles Grandiose Archives
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February 19, 2001 Mrs. Agnes Clusterbottom writes:

Dear Lady Felicia,

I do not seek advice but wish to make the lady aware of a most useful resource.

It is every woman's duty to aid her lord in performance of his husbandly duties, as the creation of child to carry on the society of gentler folk is a great responsibility indeed. I came upon this resource that will aid any lady in support her lord in his pursuit of upright behavior.

With regards,
Mrs. Agnes Clusterbottom

The Lady Felicia replies:

Dear Mrs. Clusterbottom,

Your philosophy of a wife's duties are so quaint, dear, but I'm afraid I cannot think of a single use for the device to which you refer.  So much better, really, when participating in connubial congress, to press one's lips firmly together, turn one's face to the wall, and mull over possible decorating schemes for the next Dorcas Society Bazaar. 

You are right in one thing though: ladies do need real practical guidance and now they can find it with the aid of The Lady Felicia's Gentle Generator of Rebuffs for spurning the amorous advances of lusty baronets and other lovers.

Serenely, one remains,
Lady Felicia Grandiose




Sandra writes:

Lately, whilst on a hedge-creep (this practice is still quite common in the colonies you know), I overheard one of the young lovers mention your column. 

I must say I was quite delighted by it and now that I have located it I shall read it weekly and share it with the sisters of my organization.


Sir Charles replies:

My dear young woman,

Of course you're delighted with one's weekly foray into the wilds of the human heart. One would have to be a corpse, dead three weeks and buried six feet under, not to appreciate it. And one still receives 'fan mail' from a few of those.

Please give one's best wishes to your 'sisters' at the Mission of Mercy Home for Repentant Trulls, Trollops, Sluts, Whores, and Tarts.

Noting that the best tart is a repentant tart, one remains,
Sir Charles Grandiose

Buster  writes:

Sir Charles,

I do hereby stand on this century's conception with a query of haste about the common man. Where exactly does one standeth if thou hast begat someone in the most begatful way? I triedeth to stoppeth mineself, but the wretched Count Nathanial Von Lardlumpenshtockenblufle ceaste not, and thus began the creation of the query to what I am so queried about this day: Are you notteth the father of Big Tad, guard of Porfessional Advice! He senteth me to retrieve your shoal and sceptre in the name of the Queen of Shoals and Sceptres. She wants them back now. 

Thanks, Buster.

Sir Charles replies:

Dear Sandra, from the previous letter,

See what one means? Were you to open the coffin of this one, you'd find only a puddle where the brain used to be.

Glad to have proved a point, one remains,
Sir Charles Grandiose

Zsa Zsa writes:

My liege...

While we were having tea and fudge the other day, I was out on the ledge; suddenly I slipped, and fell into the neige. My hostess refused to budge. Don't you think that rather a smudge on her character? I believe I should not trudge there more for tea. You shall be the judge, my liege. 

Meanwhile, I enjoy the hodgepodge of letters that you receive. Very good dodge the other day . . . we still do not know where you lodge. I hope you find a lovely refuge in the loge. 

Yours sincerely,
Zsa Zsa

Sir Charles replies:

Zsa Zsa, my dear,

What perspicacity! Your tenacity in ascertaining the capacity of your hostess's mendacity shows a voracity for refuting audacity. One applauds you.

Slap-arsedly, one remains,
Sir Charles Grandiose

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